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Anonymous
2016-06-07 19:37:51 Post No. 8137281
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Anonymous
2016-06-07 19:37:51
Post No. 8137281
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Remember your 10th grade Geometry class? It was a 55 minute class just before lunch. Picture yourself, 15 years old, Friday, ensconced in Geometry on a beautiful late September day. If you’re a girl, you’re much more interested in whether the new boy is going to sit with Amber during lunch for a third day in a row, and what he’s going to say to her this time; he’s so confident and handsome. If you’re a guy, you’re much more interested in the 17 year old Varsity cheerleader at the front of your class, in uniform, school particolors pleated in the skirt, which is caught in a chair rivet and pulling the material agonizingly close to the lace edge of her panty, which you hope is vivid monochrome pink. Now imagine your eremitic teacher with Asperger’s syndrome intruding on those daydreams with a methodical, laborious, sterile mathematical proof. At the chalkboard, in mind-numbing detail, in plodding repetition, with no class participation, the teacher steps through the proof which begins by repeating the same several transitive properties by which all geometric proofs begin. Despite the fantastic universe of 3-dimensional rotation and neato equations to find volume, geometry is rendered lifeless on the chalkboard by these relentless proofs.
